


A Woman Dripping Rubies

by avidvampirehunter



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Angst, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Force Planet, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hallucinations, Rated M for Mutual Pining, Romance, Thriller/ Horror Elements, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidvampirehunter/pseuds/avidvampirehunter
Summary: Wherever she goes, darkness follows. Always in the shape of him.When Rey and a small crew of Resistance fighters scour an unnamed planet for a mysterious power source, she is separated and confronted by a great evil wearing a human face. Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, has found her, and has no intention to let her go.





	1. i will meet you there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> Dear kimaracretak, to whom this fic is gifted, 
> 
> I hope that this is what you want to see. I enjoyed your song suggestions and relied on them for inspiration. It was so interesting to receive a request based on the fey/ fae; I feel like they and the Force could collide in the best way. 
> 
> I've never written a gift before, so thank you, The Reylo Fan Fiction Anthology (RFFA), and all of my fellow Reylo shippers for giving me this experience.

_although the vows are broken, i will meet you there_

_between the good and evil with the scars i wear_

_and the words we left unspoken echo through the air_

 

_i will meet you there_

 

_“I Will Meet You There” — Ofelia_

* * *

 

The mist wraps around her ankles as feet skim through the unseen lush. Taking, pulling, enduring the press of her heavy body. The heart that weighs it down.

She knows this place—knows it from dreams, perhaps. But they all blur together eventually. Like voices after too much time has passed. But for her, every shade of green is a face she remembers. A voice she could recognize above the din. And this voice, this color, bespeaks nightmares.

 _“Okay, Jedi. Your move,”_ her commander’s voice echoes, buzzing with static over the comlink. She holds it up to study the speaker as he continues, waving behind at her small troupe to beckon them halt. They obey immediately, all four of them, but Lieutenant Kaydel Ko Connix is the first to relax. _“You have a few hours before the gravity disrupts our systems. Think you can be back before then?”_

Rey smiles when he can’t see, when she is not certain whether she means it. “Shouldn’t be a problem, Poe.”

_“Good. Keep in touch, and remember to keep your beacon on you. If you’re not before time is up, we’ll send someone down to get you. Okay?”_

She nods, turning to make sure the small band of Resistance fighters are nodding, too. “Like I said: Shouldn’t be a problem.”

The call ends after more traded precautions, and Rey gathers herself again. The smallest of the stolen—no, _sacred_ —Jedi texts lies cradled in her palm, and she flips it open to her target page. As the binary beacon thrums blue around her wrist, she uses its steady pulse to guide her eyes along the map within the book.

It’s a faded trail, leaking ink into the old parchment. But the trees match her surroundings in design, sketched and spindled and shrouded with mist. The world is grey and ominous, drifting in and out of what could very well be a dreamscape.

She follows the trail with her finger, and lets it continue off the edge and straight ahead, pointing into the fog. “There. We’re getting close.”

\--

**_Not long before..._ **

“Supreme Leader...”

Fingers, gloved, flex and unflex over the arms of a stolen throne. His hazy ease lifts, revealing dark eyes aglow with blatant annoyance. “What is it?”

The young man squirms beneath his Emperor's gaze, obviously sent as a bearer of bad news. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren can barely be bothered to care. Same fears, different levels of acknowledgement. Emperor, knight, monk, prince—no matter. Fear would always be the same color, the same eyes swimming in the same shallow pools.

“As you commanded, we conducted a thorough search of the Rebel Base on Crait, and found this,” he stammers, offering up a small, round object.

Lifting a hand, Kylo pulls it to him. It floats almost languidly into his palm. His long fingers curl around it before unveiling its small form. A cloaked binary beacon. No doubt one of his mother’s tricks, likely for tracking her precious little Resistance agents. “Anything else?” He asks, a quiet calm rounding his voice as he stares down at the device.

“Some old Rebellion archives that are being downloaded as we speak.”

“You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” the man bows, scurrying away. As he does, Kylo skims him. Mitaka. A familiar name on this ship. A bearer of misfortune from a recent disaster. _The two were accompanied by a girl—_

His hand tightens into a fist, almost shattering the beacon in his grip. A breath shudders forth from his lips. He feels as his face trembles and quakes. A girl. No. _The_ girl. _His_. Yes, that sounds better. It has a nice ring to it, a not-so-foreign taste on the tongue of his mind in the soaking of ambrosiac fantasy.

But there is no time for that now. Rising, he burns a brisk path across the polished obsidian, his next objective to decode the beacon. He can sense it—this will be the key to his victory, the best way to find the Resistance and end them once and for all.

And this time, he will not be denied his victory.

_\--_

**_Now..._ **

Within the hour they take a break to rest their weary bodies, sitting scattered in the unending mist.

Sitting on a generous rock protruding from the smog, Rey pries off her boots and slips her feet into the grass. She had been unable to savor the feeling—the prickle of each blade against her skin—in every past encounter with the fascinating stuff. She relishes in the spread, in digging her toes into the endless threads of green. It feels refreshing, awakening, pleasing as it tingles up the sinews of her legs.

The chorus of life rises and falls around them with the ease of most things, though eerie in comparison to the silent sands she grew up with. They remind her of the calling, crying Porgs of Ahch-To, only dulled.

Then suddenly muted.

She blinks and he is there. Instinct would have told her to reach for her blaster—but there is no sense in that, she knows. It would only go through him and hit one of her crew lingering just out of earshot.

His eyes find her quickly. She expects them to be hard. To spit flames. They don’t. They are as she’s always seen them. Probing and dark. Deep.

Neither of them speak until his fist clenches, hiding something from her. “You betrayed me.”

“You betrayed _yourself_ , Ben,” she whispers, not unbrokenly. Her gaze never leaves his, burning with the threat of unshed tears. Saying his name is harder now, when it was once tender with hope.

“You _left_ me.”

The way his voice falters and peters into something unholy and in shambles… it makes her swallow stiffly. “I had to. I couldn’t…”

He takes a step forward, looming over where she sits without the decency to stoop. The points of his boots almost meet the tips of her toes. His dark eyes sit on the edges of his cheeks and she wonders how she looks from up there. If she is the same wide-eyed, hopelessly naive girl she was only days before, delivering herself into his hands. Waiting to awake.

But now he is here, and she feels asleep again.  

“Yes, you could. You _did.”_ His eyes flash the same way they do when he remembers. Then he holds out his hand, as though he were no more than a gentleman offering to help a lady to her feet. “And you still can.”

Her eyes drift down to the impressive black of his glove, but she doesn’t move to take it. She has seen that hand, has touched the bare skin underneath all of its careful concealment. How could she ever take it when it hides from her so? Daring to return his gaze once more, Rey sucks in a shallow breath. “You know that’s not true.”

And then he’s gone. Air again.

\--

**_One hour ago..._ **

The First Order can convert planets into death stars. They can track ships through lightspeed. But they can’t crack a damn _beacon_ in less than an hour.

So he growls, pacing around his chambers and pausing to watch its progress. His feet are hot-soled and restless, the memory of _her_ rushing his dormant blood and wiring him for _action_. It’s only been days and still he is tormented by the memories of his failure.

Finally the beacon warbles and he pounces, ripping it into his hand and working the configurations. It’s no simple device, but Leia has always been Leia, and he knows where the systems are weakest. With a toss of his intrusive hair few notches of his clever fingers he has it—the connection to its twin.

Turning away, he palms the device and makes to prepare his shuttle.

\--

**_Now, again..._ **

“How far?” Connix calls.

Rey looks back at their weary faces. “Not much farther. I’m sure of it.”

But she’s not sure. This book is certainly not to scale, though she knows they must be going in the right direction. They _must_ be _._

Rey does not appreciate how obscured the forest floor can be. The mist is unending, forcing them to tread slowly. Carefully. Rey has never been  the most patient person. Especially not now, when people are waiting for them to finish this journey.

As she deliberates, Rey finds an idea. Pausing, she closes the book and lifts a hand towards the wall of fog. Her crew halts with her, watching. Waiting. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the feeling of the mist, pulling it apart thread by thread.

“It’s clearing!” someone says.

She opens her eyes and, true enough, it is. If only slightly, Rey can make out a mass of towers in the near distance. She exchanges a look with Connix, who comes up beside her. “What _is_ that…?” she asks, peering.

Rey follows her gaze, clutching the book tightly as the dark shapes once again disappear into the bog. “...Answers.”


	2. time

_my chances stumble from slim to none_

_i am in shackles, my web has been spun_

_there's nowhere left for me now to run_

 

_i dare you darkness, come and find me_

 

_“Time - Rotterdam” — VUUR_

* * *

 

The planet has no name.

No name, only ink on a page. Scrawling trees and strange markings in an ancient tome that fits in her hand. Promises of power.

It feels similar to the cave on Ahch-To, shrouded with dark energy. The Force lives here. Rey can feel it in her bones, breathes it from the air as though it were instinct. Oxygen. The air is cold and wet with a lingering damp that leaves her lungs heavy and rattling with every exhale.

She’d found this page as she flipped through the sacred texts, looking for answers. With Luke gone, and the Resistance low on support, Rey needed to find… something. Somewhere. Ahch-To wouldn’t be an option—Ben was there when Snoke learned of the first Jedi temple, of the island. She couldn’t risk him finding her on its briny shores.

The broken lightsaber rests tucked in her bag, beside Han’s blaster. The books were long and droning, but once she’d brought up this place, Poe and Leia were quick to grant permission for a scouting party. Even if they find nothing, it would have been worth the try. The fragile thread of hope.

The forest of trees thin as they near the place revealed when Rey parted the mist, and with them the mist itself. Soft earth gradually grows hard, like rock and sand, and color begins to return from the recesses of her memory.

It’s… a village. Or, it looks like one. Tall mounds the size of buildings loom over a twisting path, small holes peppered over their rough, rocky walls. As Rey leads her party closer, she reaches out to touch the uneven surface. It’s hard, caked dirt. For a moment Rey swears she can feel the faint flutter of a pulse inside.

“There’s so many of them,” Connix remarks, holding her blaster a little too close for a soldier at ease.

Rey nods. “I think this is the place.” She opens the book again, scouring its contents. The village appears, a giant "X" slashed over the mounds in blotchy ink. “The book says that kyber crystals grow on Force-sensitive planets...”

“If we find some here, we could rebuild the weapons supply we had to abandon on D’Qar.”

“We should split up,” a Resistance fighter offers.

“Are there any inhabitants?” Another pipes.

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t think so… this planet is full of dark energy. I doubt it would have caretakers.” Just to be sure, she rounds the large mound, and finds a gaping opening. No door… the light from outside shines through each hole, casting beams upon the floor of the strange edifice. It is empty inside.

Connix bites her lip, eyes narrow and pensive. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Like I said,” Rey calls, trudging back to them. She wishes she had her staff. “Dark energy. The sooner we find something, the sooner we can leave this place and get back to the ship.”

Lieutenant Connix nods in affirmative, and turns. She points to the other fighters. “You three go down that path there,” she says, directing to the left of the divide. “Rey and I will go right. We meet back here in ten minutes.”

The men grumble, but otherwise obey, trudging down the path and peering into each mound they pass, never fully entering. There's no time for that. Rey and Connix shift down to the right, following the trail of rusty dirt. The mounds surround the street like Rey assumes normal houses would, all different shapes. Some bulbous, some tall, each with holes scattered all over their walls. Vines, as black and spindly as the trees in the forest, link roof to roof like a body of veins.

This place reeks of power and influence. She can feel it whispering through the air, and follows it up with her eyes. They’ve reached the center of the strange, empty village. Behind a cluster of mounds, mist spews in a massive cloud, like the open mouth of a volcano prepared to erupt. The mist floats and evaporates into the sky, and Rey decides it would be best not to go looking there.

Connix has wandered ahead where the paths diverge once more, and Rey looks around. At this rate, they won’t find anything of importance. The planet itself seems like a hollow shell—the steady sounds of life silenced in exchange for the ominous shift and hiss of rising vapor. But Rey can still see the town clearly, enough, and a flash catches her eye, tugging sharp as a hook.

Inside of one of the mounds, its mouth gaping at the end of the road, a blue light blinks steadily. On. Off. On. Off. On, again. Her heart races, though she doesn’t know what for, and she walks towards it.

Her footsteps crunch in the dirt, loud in the silence, and she suddenly wonders if she should practice stealth. But, before she can truly give that thought time to breathe, the binary beacon strapped to her wrist begins to blare. Its colors flash and whir in alarm, and to Rey’s utter horror, the mysterious light within the mound does, too.

The sound of a saber ignites before the red protrudes in the darkness, as a familiar, terrible form appears and ducks out of the mound. Rey’s body halts, blood freezing in her veins as Ben Solo—Kylo Ren—stands before her. His eyes are the same as they were what feels like mere moments before, only now they are alight.

“Ben—”

He points his saber at her, the red beam crackling light against the shadows of his face. “Now!”

At his command, the white armor of Stormtroopers materialize in the darkness of the nearest mounds, and blaster fire sounds in the distance. Rey whips toward them, and finds Connix over the bend with her eyes.

Not thinking, Rey sprints to Connix, fleeing from the soldiers closing in. “It’s an ambush! Get to the ship—!” she cries, ducking with a yelp as a blaster bolt whizzes past. It collides with a mound, raining a shower of sparks.

Kylo barks something unintelligible, and when she turns she finds that he is coming for her in long strides. Determined. Angry. Frightened. _Frightening._

She turns and runs in Connix’s wake. “Go! Go, go, go!”

There are Stormtroopers at every turn, hiding within the shadows of the mounds and appearing in the doorways to shoot. But Connix is faster, blasting each one as they appear. Rey wrestles Han’s blaster from her pack, keeping a tight hold of the book as they sprint.

They pass a body on the ground, a Resistance fighter with a wound smoking in his shoulder. Rey swallows, struggling to breathe, but presses on.

 _“Rey,”_ Ben’s voice echoes. In her ears. In her mind. Everywhere. _“Stop.”_

Not him. Not now. Not ever.

A dream.

A nightmare.

Against her better judgement, Rey does, pausing in her step to turn and hold up her weapon. The fear is immense, but she knows that she cannot pull the trigger. Not on him. He is getting closer now, and she shoots behind him, managing to fall a trooper. To her shock, the others do not fire on her. Her eyes widen in disbelief. His remain intent on her own.

“Rey!” Connix calls.

She grits her teeth, turning to race after the lieutenant, heart pounding in her ears. She’d been a fool. An utter fool, to think that nothing would fail. As they run, they manage to outpace Kylo and his subordinates. He does not call out to her again.

But Connix misses a trooper. Rey only just catches the glaring white figure appearing in the maw of a great mound and lifts her blaster to shoot him.

It happens in an instant. Light flickers on his armored chest plate, and the entrance of the mound simply… _collapses._ Rey is stunned into silence as she hears a muffled scream, looking back over her shoulder as Connix leads on. The mist is just ahead. If they can make it into its cover, they could escape.

There is a blast of earth at Rey’s feet, and she can feel him near. The bastard—he’d cut through the mounds! Their narrow alleyways choked with mist. There’s no other option. Rey turns, halting in the path, pleased that Connix is wise enough to choose safety. To keep running. She can feel it when the Kaydel disappears into the fog, and is filled with a heady sense of relief and terrible dread.

Kylo Ren is an arm’s length away now, and, with all her might, Rey holds out her hand and _shoves._ The Force in her push knocks him back and he grunts, hitting the dirt and kicking up dust. Rey turns, ready to flee into the mist, but thinks differently.

If she goes, he will only find them, too.

Not knowing what else to do, Rey bolts to the nearest alleyway, and ducks into a mound. Gasping, she hides in the shadows, passing through the beams of light shining inexplicably through each small hole. She can hear him bark orders to the only remaining troopers, sending them into the misty forest after the Resistance. But she knows that he is still in the village. Can feel him lurking closer. Sniffing her out. Honing in on her hammering pulse.

He’d found her. Somehow. He must have used the device, the blue light of her beacon’s twin. Realizing this, she struggles at her own, trying to power it down, but she’s too late. The colors and sounds of intimacy betray her, and when she looks up he is there, outside glaring in.

\--

He should hate her.

He should _despise_ her.

But now, seeing her like this, alone and panting for breath, there is a sensation boiling in his blood unlike anything he has ever known.

“Come out,” he says softly. He can feel his face fall, his weakness shining through to her. Unhidden. As if it ever was.

 _“Never,”_ she spits.

Kylo frowns, realizing his offensive stance—disengages his lightsaber and sheathes it onto his belt. He takes one step closer, but does not enter the desolate hovel. Not yet. He dips his head, as if trying to calm a startled animal. “You’ve run from me long enough. Come out, Rey.”

He can feel her trepidation, her yearning to trust in him. It’s a heady desire that gathers at the base of his skull and tempts him all the closer. Still, she places her finger on the trigger. “Stay back!”

“Or what?” he challenges. It pains him that she would threaten this. That he would expect nothing less. “You’ll shoot me? Kill me here?” Oh, what a fantasy, to be slain by her. But now is not the time for such thoughts. “I think not. Come to me, Rey,” he beckons with extended hand, voice deep and laced with influence.

Yes. _T_ _here_. Her resolve is growing weak, her eyes as wide and soft as he remembers them. Her very gaze wraps around his heart and squeezes mercilessly.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispers.

Rey lowers the small blaster with an aching slowness, watching him carefully. He allows it. Feeling victory draw near, he backs away to give her room to join him outside. She sighs, defeated, and takes a step forward.

The tip of her shoe barely grazes a beam of light when the entrance collapses in a rush of shifting earth, trapping her inside without so much as a scream.


	3. stray

_when tears are in your eyes, don't hold it inside_

_‘cause you don't need to hide_

_i'll be by your side_

 

_i'll do what i must_

 

_“Stray” — Soen_

* * *

 

The darkness crashes down and she is left with only stars.

No, they are not stars. In the darkness, the holes of the mound shine light inside, small and twinkling like star and shadow. A sense of panic washes over her, and Rey pounds her fist against the wall. The surface is as hard as rock; a new wall that was not there before.

Something pounds back, a voice, hard and fast and dipped in dark hysteria, calls out, muffled. “Rey! _Rey!”_

“I’m here! I can’t—”

As she speaks, the mound begins to quake. The force of it is strong, knocking her onto her back. The book falls out of her grip, sprawling like a fallen soldier on the other side of the hollow edifice. Groaning, Rey blinks as dirt falls from the roof and onto her face. Looking up, her heart seizes in her chest.

The ceiling is coming closer.

“Rey—!”

She’s quick to her feet, stashing her blaster and banging her palms against the wall. “The mound is sinking!”

She cannot hear his response, if there is one, only a hissing, popping sound behind her. A green light pulses, casting itself onto the darkness of the wall that has trapped her. Turning to the source, Rey’s gut twists.

From the base of the mound, on the opposite side of her, something radiant and green oozes from the dust. It bubbles and swirls, folding in on itself and rising as the ceiling falls. The liquid _just_ touches the book when Rey dives to wrench it away. She breathes in relief, though it is short lived. The green clings to the book, disintegrating in a trail that is quickly leading to her hands. Crying out, she throws the book out of her grip and it lands in the swell where the substance pulls it into an embrace of ash and dust.

The ceiling is coming closer now, and Rey crouches, backing against the wall and watching as the acid creeps towards her feet. She closes her eyes, regret plummeting through her. She _failed._ Failed the mission. The Resistance. Ben Solo.

Herself.

Suddenly, with a great blast, a spike of red spears the air just beside her face. The crimson blade comes up and over her head in an arc, and she barely manages to move before fingers grasp the collar of her tunic and _pull._

\--

His heart stutters, halting and starting. He pants to keep up with it, holding her tightly in his arms. She is breathing, too, clutching onto him in ways he’s never dared dream. Head lifted from the dirt, supporting her on his chest, he smooths the rubble from her hair. She doesn’t look injured, and this is enough to send his aching skull down to the ground in relief.

Rey lifts herself from him all too soon, dazed as she blinks—stares—at him. He’s never had a woman atop him before. Never cared to try. He almost remarks on it, but decides against the idea as the surrounding mounds begin to tremble.

They get to their feet as, one by one, all of the mounds sink into the ground. He pulls his disengaged saber to him as the fog rolls in—filling the void left by the sunken traps. Rey stands close by, but does not touch.

Now is not the time for words, as dark Force energy rises with the never-ending mist. He can hear her unsteady breathing amongst the din. There is a buzzing. A strange, chattering noise. Like the clacking of cold teeth. He looks over his shoulder, but finds himself alone.

Panic, dread, an inescapable _fear_ grips him as he watches Rey walk into the mist. “Rey, _stop!_ Get back!”

She doesn’t.

The memories come for him, then. He can’t let this happen—will _not_ let her run away from him again. He trudges forward, prepared to dive into the smog after her, when her shadow returns.

His tensed shoulders fall as she comes into view. “Don’t scare me like that,” he nearly growls.

Suddenly, inexplicably, her eyes are filled with unshed tears. “Ben…”

His chest constricts, the sound of his name from her lips, even here, is like a melody. Any and all anger vanishes. He breathes out, unprepared, unable to resist the sound of it as he stands openly, waiting for her to return to him. He holds out his hand for her to take, knowing that if she does he will lead her away, hold on and never let go.

She smiles, broad and wide and _relieved._ She says his name once more, racing forward. Kylo opens his arms to catch her, to hold her close again. To be _allowed._ But her body moves through him, sucking the air out of his lungs as she vanishes into his torso.

“I thought I’d never see you again...”

That voice… That voice is one he knows. Knows all too well. That voice has woken him in the night with its piercing cries of fear, muttered in its loneliest moments, prayed to a man he once thought god.

That voice is his own.

He turns, eyes wide and mouth slack at the vision before him. Rey stands, face tilted up and bathed in light. Her gaze is open, soft, full of adoration and wonder. Wrapped around her are arms. _His_ arms, yet not.

They are the arms of Ben Solo.

She reaches up to caress his cheek, tracing where the scar would— _should—_ be. Her voice is tender and lilted, dancing and flowing with promise. “I missed you,” she whispers, her hand trailing into his hair.

Kylo can feel the phantom touch on his scalp, trailing chills up his neck and fire along his spine. He scoffs, just short of bellowing in his disbelief. This cannot be real. It must be the Force, _taunting_ him with images of what can never be.

Ben Solo smiles, taking her waist in his hands and Kylo has to watch how well they fit. The apparition’s head ducks low, craning to brush his lips against Rey’s ear. She closes her eyes in bliss and Kylo shudders.

Rey continues her touches, stroking and encouraging as Ben Solo continues to trail his mouth along her jaw. His eyes are dark and lidded, soaking in every inch of flesh Kylo Ren is denied.

This… this is fantasy. Kylo Ren knows this, but he cannot look away.

Their arms entangle, Rey enveloped in white cloth and burning skin. Ben Solo’s affections find her neck and she gasps, calling out his name with the softest cry. His body answers her, pulling her closer and brushing languidly against her center.

When their lips meet the blood in Kylo’s body becomes ice and he can stand this visage no longer. He ignites his saber without thought, and looks down at it. In the red he sees himself, crackling and unstable. Perhaps that it what he needs. When his gaze shifts up again they seem emboldened, Rey’s muted moans of pleasure drowned by the sheer _satisfaction_ in Ben Solo’s eyes, staring directly at him.

That is the end of it.

Kylo roars, running forward and swinging down upon them both with a vicious strike. Rey’s visage screams, but fades into swirling mist as the blow lands, cutting her in two.

He is left alone. Gasping. Shaking. Inky hair obscures his vision, but that hardly matters. He will have to find her in this maze, find her and escape this hellish planet before they are consumed.

“Ben…?”

When he turns, he is hopeful that it is her. But all hopes, all coherent _thoughts_ , are immediately pushed aside.

Her eyes are the same. Soft, large, and full of warmth. Her skin is smooth and sun-kissed, cheeks round and jaw firm. Her lips are parted and pouting pink, wet and enticing and unknown. Her neck slopes and fans out to bare shoulders, and a bare body beneath it.

She stands there, bolder than Rey would ever dare to be, in nothing but her skin. He swallows thickly at the sight of her breasts, hands balling into fists as they rise and sink with every breath she takes.

But she does not move to touch him, simply staring at his face. “I know what you want.”

She steps closer, he does not move. The hairs rise on his neck and everything is _wrong._

On her toes, she rests her long, slender fingers on his chest, leaning her slight weight against him. Her lips caress his ear as she whispers, breath cold, “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you’d like to _take?”_

He closes his eyes, willing away the temptation of her words. _Yes_. He would take Rey. Take her into his arms and show her what they could be. Souls, hearts, bodies... no boundary between them. Two halves becoming one. It's all he ever wanted.

Had life not separated them long enough? Had fate not been cruel to them both?

He’s dreamed of the moment when she finally accepts him, touches him without hesitation, arches beneath his tender ministrations. He would be so good to her. Touch her anywhere she wants, _however_ she wants. In the night, visions like these would plague him—the soft sounds of her voice yielding to wondrous exploration, staccato thrusts and wanton crescendos echoing like a long-forgotten song in his ears.

Every dream would end the same: Holding Rey in his arms, where she belongs.

But this is not Rey.

“No,” he snarls, opening his eyes to glare down this visage. This _hallucination._ As he speaks, her skin tightens like a drum, eyes sinking and shining like pearls, and the image of Rey fades into a more sinister shadow. Red slides down from the crown of her head, dripping like rubies until her false form melts and joins the mist below.

\--

She’s never seen anything like it.

Around her, the trees molt their charred skin, giving birth to bright and green. Leaves and spores shower sunlight and the mist drapes around her feet in a comforting shroud of warmth.

Lights float, suspended, around her. She reaches up to cup one in orange, and another in the sweetest rose. They bounce through her fingers like dust motes, shining like stars as she continues to walk through the glade, mind empty and devoid of worry. What is she doing here? Does she care? She can’t recall. Can’t think of a reason why she should. Can’t bother to remember her own name.

“I’ve found you,” a voice calls, deep and familiar. He appears from behind a tree, clothed in white. His hair is kempt and his face free of marring, though she does not know why it should be otherwise.

“I know you,” she says, walking closer. As she does, she feels only pleasantness. He reaches for her hand and takes it. It is cold, but she doesn’t mind. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she realizes.

The man smiles sheepishly, and she cannot place the warm feeling that rises in her chest, only the thought that tells her she likes it. His voice is soft and clear as his face comes close. “I want to show you something.”

Somehow she knows that he always does. She nods, and he leads her by the hand through the beautiful glade. They come upon a shoreline of dazzling, clear waters. The surface sparkles like jewels; looks cool enough to drink. Her throat feels dry at the thought. She doesn’t know why that would be.

He tugs her by the hand, walking into the swell, but she stops. He continues onward, then turns, confused and… dismayed. “Come into the water,” he calls.

Her legs stir her to answer, but her eyes remain trained on the water and she is anchored on the shore. “I can’t swim…” she mutters. Why? _Why_ can’t she swim?

“Nonsense. Of course you can swim.” Her gaze returns to him, and he is already deep inside, up to his chest. The wet cloth of his tunic sticks to his skin, droplets of water falling from his hair. He holds his arms out to her, light trickling diamonds from his splayed fingers, eyes welcoming and warm. “Come to me,” he says. “Let me show you what you want.”

“What I want?” she mutters. She has a vague memory, though it does not quite match this. Her memory is of fire and burning, of quiet and rain. Anger. Rage. Desire. Trust. Forgiveness.

_Ben._

She takes in a deep breath, and slips off her boots. Her toes bury into the soft sand and grass, mere inches from the glittering coastal waves. Closing her eyes, she tilts up her chin to take in the sunlight. The warmth. She shifts—

“Wait!”

—and stops. Confused. It is his voice, but he still remains in front of her, arms outstretched and waiting in the water. She turns, and behind her is someone _else._ His face is scarred and his hair is mussed, eyes wide and wild and breathing far from steady. Black clings to him like a second skin and yet she feels no fear. He is not a stranger to her.

He swallows his breath and holds out his hands, as if to placate her, or push her away. There are gloves on them, and she is overcome with inexplicable despair. “Don’t take another step,” he says evenly. Carefully.

“Don’t listen to him,” the man in white calls. She looks to him again, longing to join him yet not knowing if she should. “Come to me. Step into the water.”

The man in white is kind. The man in white believes in her. The man in white touched her hand—

_“Rey!”_

She halts. _Rey…?_

Her name. She blinks, fighting for a breath that won’t come. Her name is Rey. What is her last name? Does she have one? Thoughts flow in and out too fast and she is torn to look at the man in black.

He’s closer than before. Afraid. She can feel herself on the edge of a crumbling planet, can see the blue and red reflected in his eyes. She sees herself reaching out, to give and to take and to run away. “I…” she whimpers, looking back out into the waves. The man in white waits for her there. “I have to help him,” she nearly sobs. “I have to _save_ him…”

The man in black seems disturbed by this, but keeps his eyes steady on her. “Rey,” he calls. Just as soft, if not softer than the other. “It’s not real.” In one, swift movement, he pulls off his glove and holds it out to her, as if to show her what _is._

His hand is bare and looks so warm, and somehow she knows it is. Turning away from the water, she extends her own and lets her fingers graze his palm. It shines on her, then. “Ben—!”

When he has her, he pulls her away from the shore and suddenly everything is clear again. The mist shrouds them as Rey holds him tightly, daring to look behind her at the new sea of green. Ben’s heart hammers in her ear as he guides them away from the hissing, bubbling lake.

“Thank you,” she whispers into his chest. When they are at a safe distance, and she realizes how tightly his arms have wound around her, she pulls away only to pull him closer. Her arms curl around his neck and he returns her gesture, crushing her to him and sighing in contentment. In relief.

It feels… like she imagined it would. Large and warm and challenged by edges and curves. But she doesn’t mind that. What she _does_ mind is that, once this embrace ends, they will be enemies again, or something she is simply not ready to be.

So she braces the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair and he shudders against her, sighing hot breath onto her neck before he goes limp in her arms.

\--

He wakes alone on the ramp of his shuttle.

The beacon is broken in half beside him.

He turns onto his side, scoops the remains into his gloveless hand, and weeps.

\--

“Rey! Connix! Welcome back!”

“Glad to be back, Commander,” Lieutenant Connix sighs. As she speaks, Rey clings to the walls, eyeing them with interest.

When Poe asks what happened to Kiz, the fallen fighter, Connix is the one to say he was lost to the enemy. When they are asked which enemy, Rey is the one who says Kylo Ren found them.

“The General is not going to be happy about this…” Poe sighs, stroking his chin in thought.

“To think,” Connix growls, “we wasted hours of precious time only to be ambushed by the First Order.”

Poe looks up, eyes dark and serious. “‘Hours?’”

Rey comes closer, curious about the odd look in his eye. It’s as though he were the one to see a ghost. Not her. “Yes,” she nods. “We were there for almost two hours.”

“That’s not possible,” Poe scoffs, looking at her incredulously. “Rey... we just dropped off your crew ten minutes ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairy tales are told in threes - I thought it only fair. I hope you enjoyed! *hugs*


End file.
